Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You're running. You’re running and you can’t stop. The thick, Zero-Sugar Ultra Red Monster Energy fumes fill your lungs with every breath. It’s suffocating, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop.

That skittering. Don’t you hear it? It’s getting closer, louder.

You dare not look behind you, you know something’s there. Behind you, shrouded in darkness—an empty void so familiar yet so cold.

The grimey floors pull you down with each step.

Your lungs heave, with the effort of running for so long, but you must keep running. And running, and running.

Your legs burn, but no matter how fast you run, it’s always right behind you. Tiny, heavy breaths and crawling legs ring through your ears.

They’re catching up.

Go, go, go, GO!

…

There’s no use, is there?

Those gnarled claws scratch your skin as the endless wave of rats crawl up your legs, up your torso, and soon, cover your face completely.

Your sobs come out inaudible.

You try to cry out.

You wrap your arms around yourself, in a pathetic attempt to shield yourself.

They trap you fully, in a ball of writhing, nasty fur and skin.

There really is no use.

You cry out one last time.

And a voice calls back.

Chapter Text

You shoot up in bed, drenched in sweat. You reach your hand towards your face and realize you have been crying. You rub your eyes, taking a long deep breath in.

“Man, that was a weird ass dream,” You mutter groggily.

“I dunno, man, it must’ve been a pretty epic dream,” Your dudebro roommate, Bradonley, said, a can of Zero-Sugar Ultra Red Monster Energy in his hand, “You were screaming n’ everything! Pretty fuckin’ gnarly.”

Your eyes go wide when you locked onto the can of pure liquid energy in his dumb, strong hand. Without the thought even registering, you swipe at him, snatching the can out of his hands and tossing it into the sink.

“Yooo sick aim, bro! That was epic,” Bradonley cheers, ''but totally not cool. That was only, like, my third can of the day, man.”

You watch the remainder of the energy drink drain down the sink. You scrunch up your nose at the scent. “Dude, can you stop drinking these inside the dorm? You’re just asking for a bug infestation or something.”

“Bro, you're right… I hate bugs. They’re, like, lowkey highkey kinda gross.”

You leave your roommate to process that amazing and ingenious train of thought and check the time. 7:02 AM. Wait, he’s already drank three Monsters? And, more importantly, you woke up way before classes even start. You had a long day of holding branches ahead of you, and you need your beauty sleep. Those branches aren’t going to hold themselves, as your incredibly wise theatre professor would say.

You mash your face back into your pillow and try to ignore your roommate rambling on about the bugs. You turn onto your side and you see the blank, empty space where you used to keep rat bits man's mask. You smile a bit, remembering the little adventure you had. You think about rat bits man. You wonder what he was doing now? Hopefully not solely living off of rat bits and canned soup. Maybe you should make him some of your grandma’s famous mac and cheese! …That is, if you ever see him again.

‘Aw, dammit, I made myself sad,’ you think to yourself.

Before you knew it, your alarm rang and it was time to move on.

Chapter Text

Today was a bad day. You were scolded for holding the tree branches at 47 degrees instead of the perfect, theatre approved 38 degrees, almost ruining the whole dress rehearsal. The entire cast, including all the tech students, were giving you death stares and whispering awful things. If it wasn’t for your merciful theatre professor, they would’ve spent the entire class staring you to death.
Then, at your job, a rowdy group of guests decided to harass you about their orders not coming out fast enough, despite the fact that you’re a server, and have no control over the flow of dishes coming from the kitchen. That then got you sentenced to dish cleaning duties for the night. What kinda bar sells food anyway? Just eat some peanuts and drink beer.

You groan at the dishes slowly piling up in the back of the kitchen, but decide it wasn’t worth complaining over. As you clean, you stare at the white stained wall in front of you, desperately just wanting to go home.

“Breaking news!” A voice calls from the little static TV in the corner of the bar. You look up from the dishes and peer through the serving window. Seems like everyone was too distracted to scold you, and for good reason too.

“A rumbling of rats!? I’m coming in here from Augustine Road, where we have our own fair share of exciting and strange happenings, but look out folks of Ohio, because you might find rats crawling out of every crevice in your house! That’s right, rats have been swarming the houses of our good citizens and eating everything in their path, showing no signs of stopping.” The newscaster announces, a weirdly big grin on her face.

“Aw, rats!” one of the customers exclaims.

“Rats?! I’m allergic to rats!” another customer curses.

“Here we have the victim of the first rat wave with us to give his spine tingling testimony about this extraordinary event! Mr. Bunce Wayne?” she says, holding the microphone towards Ohio’s dark prince/richest man in the area, Bruce Wayne’s forgotten cousin.

“Bad. So many rats.”

“Thanks, Bunce. Now, we have an exclusive video from a local 17-year-old student, Kilometres Morales, who was walking home late and bravely filmed his neighbour’s house exploding with rats. It’s a truly disturbing piece of exclusive footage. Viewer’s discretion is advised.”

An unbelievably shaky video starts playing. This Morales kid starts hastily zooming in and through the grain, a small suburban house could be seen bursting with rats. It was like a rat geyser flooding out of the house. This whole thing was hitting a little too close to home for your taste, but as you were about to turn away and focus back onto your dish washing, you notice what looked to be a rat mask among the wave of rats. You squint to get a closer look. It was! You choke back a gasp as you see a mangled mask bearing an uncanny resemblance to rat bits man’s get swept away.

You take a shaky deep breath and clench your fits around your apron. You can’t watch rat bits man get swept away again. Not like last time. You hurriedly take your apron off and throw it at your manager.

“Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She yells at you.

“The dishes can wait, Darlene! There’s someone in need of saving,” You say righteously, feeling cooler than ever. You grab your bag and make a dash out the back door.

Chapter Text

This was your moment.

Your Christine Diaeé, your Evan Hansen, your Alexander Hamilton, your Grizabella moment. This was going to be your redemption, your chance to return the favor you owe rat bits man: you were going to save him! But… Where do you even start? The only clue you have was the video that Kilometers took, but even that was so shaky you were barely able to make out what was even happening.

“The news said these attacks were happening at Augustine Street, so maybe I'll head there to look for clues.” You reach into your back pocket to retrieve your keys, but feel nothing.

‘That's weird,’ you think to yourself, ‘I could have sworn I–’

“SHSHRRT!” A quiet metallic scratching sound comes from behind you.

You turn around and see a fat glowing rat dragging your keys away. Again. Are you fucking serious? Now? Of all times? If this all wasn’t for rat bits man, you would’ve just shit your pants in anger and call it a day.

As you were lost in thought about how angry you were, you lose track of the rat that stole your keys. You look around and see a metal grate open and hastily close. Seriously, how strong was this rat?
Ignoring the feeling of intense deja vu, you buckle the strap around your chest, effectively putting your backpack into Sport Mode, and mentally prepare yourself for another adventure into the sewers.

You take out your sick, holographic switchblade (in case of any weirdos who want to get up close and personal) and shove it between the metal grate and the road, prying it open. With some effort, you successfully get the grate off, pocketing the knife once more. You stare down into the familiar endless darkness. It’s just as impossibly deep as before.

“Okay, don’t fall this time,” you say to yourself, “That hospital visit took a huge hit on my bank account and I literally cannot afford it.”

You step one foot down the ladder, slip, and instantaneously fall down the sewers.

The last thought you had before you were immersed once again in the enveloping darkness was: “Oh crap.”

Chapter Text

You wake up with a gasp, the familiar Zero-Sugar Ultra Red Monster Energy scent filling your lungs, and the weird sludge coating the sewer floors now all over your work clothes. If your manager wasn’t already mad at the dishes, she sure as hell was going to be furious for this.

You glance around. The lights were still on from the last time you were trapped in the sewers, but something seemed a little different. It seemed a bit more… run down. The lights were dimmer, a more sickly green, and the air felt heavier, each breath feeling like your last. Dread. That’s all you feel. Dread pervades throughout your body, and your heart speeds up.

It is suffocating. What the hell happened since you were gone? It’s barely been 2 months. There’s no way a sewer of all places could so easily get so run down so fast. Ohio has some standards.

Within the sounds of dripping sludge, the buzzing of lights, and the skittering of rats, was the strumming of a guitar. A horribly out of tune guitar. Without even thinking, your legs begin to lead you towards what can almost be called music. You hear a mumbling voice accompanying the strums. It is equally out of tune.

You peek your head around a corner to a dimly lit opening. There stands an impressively tall figure, hunched over their guitar, and surrounded by dozens of CDs. They’re wearing what looks like a mask. A familiar mask.

“Rat bits man?!” you call out.

The figure looks down. Oh. That is not rat bits man. That’s–

“Taylor Swift,” the figure says, straining their voice to be higher, “famed 21st century country and pop singer-songwriter, beloved by all.”

“Oh shoot, sorry Miss Swift, I didn’t expect you down here,” you say, taken aback, “Do you always come down to the sewers?”

“Yeah, I needed to, uh, clear my head and get into the zone of writing more songs for this, um, new upcoming album. It’s actually my secret song writing spot for when I write more epic hits like ‘You Belong With Me’ and ‘Love Story’. Don’t tell anyone or else my, uh, PR team will be upset… Do you want my autograph?” Taylor Swift rambles.

“No.” you mutter, squinting at her.

“Oh, okay.”

Was… Was Taylor Swift always this tall? You could’ve sworn she wasn’t like 8ft tall. Her eyes are a hypnotizing red and the size of your hand. When’d she get those black fluffy wings and antennae?

The only recognizable part of her was her signature blonde hair. Maybe this was some sort of new marketing stunt? Or a complete aesthetic overhaul? Was she rebranding herself?

“Where did you get that mask? If you don’t mind me asking, Madam Swift.” you ask, staring at the mask that barely covers her large, feathered face.

“I, uh… I found it?” She says, unsure, her sharp nails (claws? talons?) gripping her guitar hard enough to snap the strings. “How about I play you a song? Haha…”

You awkwardly sit there as Taylor Swift strums a few off-key notes on her guitar and nervously laughs. The laugh sounded like a tin can being thrown against a wall. You start to suspect that this person was not Taylor Swift.

“Please, Miss Swift, that mask looks really similar to one my friend has. I haven't seen him in a long time… I'm worried for him. Please tell me where you found it.” You put on your best puppy dog eyes but you really aren't sure if it looks convincing or if you just look like one of those eye-pop pens. Taylor Swift seems hesitant to respond, before slowly shaking her head.

“I don’t want you to get mad… but if that man was your friend…”

Your heart drops,“What? What happened?”

“I may have… stolen it from his house.”

“He doesn’t have a house.” Did rat bits man gain ownership of a house in those 2 months you were gone? Does he even have money?

Taylor Swift shakes her head. “No, I'm pretty sure he has a house. It was right at the doorway.” She waves her arms (?) around trying to draw the shape of this house in the air.

“It was big, like a castle almost? Smelt dreadful, like AXE Musk Deodorant Body Spray. I would know. I have a nose. A very human nose, by the way.” She tilts her head to the side to prove it. You cannot see her nose. “Anyways, the house was also absolutely infested with rats, literally rats crawling up the walls, the curtains, everything!! It was so gross I nearly passed out.”

That caught your attention.

“Rats…?”

“Yeah. Hundreds—no, thousands of them! Really, really gross. Not fit for someone like me, famed singer-songwriter Taylor Swift.”

Well, that can’t be right. You saw the mask in the sea of rats on the news. You’ve been in rat bits man’s den. It’s barely any bigger than your college dorm room, plus the rats fucking hate him. He almost drowned in them! Either he made up with the rats (M/N: unlikely, I call lies) , or Miss Swift isn’t telling the truth. …Or alternatively, there was someone else in the sewers other than him. Could the bounty hunters have—no. There’s no way.

You shake off the creeping paranoia. “So, uh, Madam Taylor Swift, could you point me in the direction of his supposed house?”

Taylor Swift suddenly stands at her full height, a sizzling plastic smell emitted from the contact her head made with the light above. “What do I get in return?”

She can’t be serious.

What could Taylor Swift possibly want from you? She basically already has everything she ever wanted in the world, what could you offer? Then it hits you, there's only one thing celebrities can never get enough of. Bootlicking.

“Oh, Madame Swift, have I told you how big of a fan I am?” Taylor seemed to puff her chest out with pride as you continued to gush. “ I absolutely adore your music! Your hit songs like… uh… ‘Shake it Off’ and… ‘Bad Blood’. In fact,” you pick up one of the grimy CD’s placed on the ground in front of you, “I will buy your incredible album right now!!”

“You… you will?” Taylor Swift sounds like she was on the verge of tears.

“Uh, yeah just let me get my walle-”

“NO NEEEEEEED!!!!” She shouts, excitedly hopping back and forth. “Oh, I am so glad you love my music. Just take it!! It's on the house!! Anything for a fan!!!”

She does a little spin and curtseys. “The house is north that way, about 7 miles out. You should know when you're getting close because you'll smell the axe. It is STRONG.”

You bid farewell to someone who might not really be famed singer-songwriter Taylor Swift and mentally prepare to make your 7 mile trek. You take a deep breath, and start walking.

Chapter Text

3 miles into your hike you already feel your legs giving up on you. It’s been, what, an hour? That’s pathetic, even for you. You sit down against the wall and pull out the complimentary Taylor Swift CD to admire it. It depicts Taylor (?) whimsically looking off camera, while casually adjusting a crusty looking French beret, completely stained with sewer juices and other liquids, on their head. The best part: it’s completely hand drawn. Your album appreciation session was rudely interrupted when a man wearing a very ripped suit came barreling out of nowhere towards you.

“AHHHHHEHAGHAHEHHH!!!” You both scream at each other.

On instinct, you chuck the CD album at full power and hit them square in the eye. They yelp in pain, which very quickly turns into a sob.

“Ow,” they sniffle.

You blink at them a few times. Crusty tailored suit. Skewed sunglasses. Absolutely loaded with weapons. Kinda… sexy? Wait a minute.

“It’s you!” You exclaim, “Mr. Bounty Hunter guy! Why did you jump me again, and why was it so much more pathetic this time?”

He looks down at you, visible tears streaming down his unshaven face. You suddenly feel a little guilty. “I just… Look man, I’ve been having a rough time. Do you have any snacks? I haven’t eaten in like 18 hours.”

You rummage through your bag. You pull out a half eaten Strawberry Yogurt Quaker Oats bar. You look down at it, even more guilty.

“Um, I have this?” You offer. “I know it isn’t much but–”

He swipes the bar from your hand and directly into his mouth, wrapper and all.

“Thank you…” The bounty hunter sniffles as he chews the wrapper and granola bar, taking a pause to swallow (M/N: That can’t be good for him he should see a doctor) before speaking again.

“It’s just been so hard lately…” He invites himself to plop down onto the floor next to you. “Like, it’s great that I got hired again but my new employer sucks ass. He keeps making me hunt the same annoying guy, who's near impossible to catch by the way, and, like, I’m my own man! I have my own interests and hobbies! I have preferences on who I want to hunt! I’m getting so sick and tired of going around and doing this stupid job. The sewers are stinky and icky. Like has anyone ever considered that maybe I don't wanna be down here anymore?? The rats are gross, the food is gross, everything smells. I'm just not in my element. I'm not thriving. I'm not living my life, I'm not loving my job, and I'm not laughing in general.”

The bounty hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “I wish I never dropped out of college. Being a contracted hunter sucks. Stay in school, okay? For me.”

You gnaw on your lower lip, unsure of how to console him. You give him a hesitant pat on the back. “Yeah, man, I’ll stay in school.”

He pulls you into a bear hug. “You’re a good kid.” He stands back up, suddenly completely composed, and uselessly brushes off his suit. He adjusts his sunglasses before turning to you. “I better be off, then. Thanks for the granola bar. I fucking love yogurt.”

“Wait, who exactly are you hunting?”

“My employer is absolutely obsessed with finding the rat guy. You know, your bf? Or whatever your relationship is.”

You sputter, growing redder by the second. “I– That’s not– We aren’t– Can you just tell me what your employer’s name is and what his deal is? Please?”

The bounty hunter stares at you thoughtfully, “Because you gave me the granola bar, I’ll let you in on some classified information. My employer is setting something up. I don’t know what, but I know the rat guy is a vital part of his plan. His name is, uh, Steven? Sven? Something like that. Anyways, I’m off, kid.” He gives you a small wave before slinking off back into the twisting maze that is the Ohio sewage system.

You’re so sick of this. But what was that last part again? Some weirdo named Sven or Steven? What did he want with rat bits man?

“Questions for later,” You mutter to yourself as you stand up, and continue down deeper into the sewers.

Chapter Text

5 miles into your sewage adventure extravaganza and the tunnels start to look a bit familiar. That unforgettable griminess that sends a shiver down your spine. Eventually, you come across an opening, covered wall to wall with posters, leading into a small hall.

Impulsively, you turn your heel and walk down the corridor. You peer inside the opening to find rat bits man’s den! Only this time, it’s completely trashed. His beloved posters were torn, his makeshift bed disheveled, and a single can of Hearty Italian Wedding Soup with Meatballs and Spinach left half eaten on the floor. You think back to the can of tomato soup rat bits man shared with you before. The care he took into preparing it, and how hard it was to come across food down in the sewers. He would never waste a good can of soup like that! Which means someone else did this to his home.
It would be disrespectful to leave it in such a state of disrepair. If being a minor character in every theatre production you’ve ever been in has taught you anything, it’s to clean up the stage after everyone else is gone. It’s good for extra recognition, even if your efforts go unrecognized.

You begin picking up all the unsalvageable pieces of poster and throwing them in a pile. For all the bigger pieces, you take the duct tape out the med kit and repair them the best you can. You’ve seen your fair share of mishaps and props breaking on stage that led to hundreds of dollars of repairs, so picking up the skill of a repairman was handy. As you cleaned, you began to reminisce about the memories you had with rat bits man.

You pick up the can of Hearty Italian Wedding Soup with Meatballs and Spinach and think to the moment when you and rat bits man shared that tin of tomato soup. The way he fed it to you made your heart flutter with the warmth of his kindness, and when you fed it to him he said “Oh yeah baby this is some good soup. Perfect for this cold night. Awesome.” (M/N: is that what happened) (L/N: I don’t think so)

You return the duct tape to its rightful place, but not before remembering the time he tenderly healed your wounds. His hands were so rough but gentle against your injured arms, cradling them as he wrapped them with bandages. Rat bits man whispered reassurances, like “Oh yeah baby you’ll be okay.” and “Oh yeah baby, you’re safe with me.” (M/N: I don’t think this is what happened) (L/N: since when did rat bits man speak in full sentences)

You glance to the spot where he confidently pinned you against the wall, gently took your chin in his strong callused hands, tilted your head up and whispered, “Oh yeah baby I'll get you home I’m so strong.” Your heart practically leapt out of your chest. His face was so close to yours. If only he wasn’t wearing that mask. (M/N: …) (L/N: bro)

You shake your head and refocus yourself. You can make more memories when you meet up with him again. For now you should just concentrate on cleaning the rest of the den. As you pick up the last pieces of his destroyed posters off the ground you notice claw marks extending from a small crawl space you didn't notice before. Bending down you can clearly see that the marks had been intentionally made, almost like a message. It must be a clue from rat bits man!

You carefully opened the door to the crawl space, the hinges letting out an awful creaking noise. There was just enough space for you to wiggle through onto the other side. A dim light, warm and non-fluorescent, bled through the small passage. That must be where he’s hiding. You bend down onto your hands and knees and shuffle through, mindful of all the grime and rat caca. You gag the entire way through. This is not a good experience, but you must persist. For all you know, that Stuart guy could have done something to rat bits man.

As you come out from under the narrow crawl space onto the other side, you retch as you free yourself from the exit. As your grand prize for wading through actual shit, the tunnel immediately hits a dead end.

“Rat bits man??” You call out carefully.

“GET ‘EM BOYS.”

A bag is shoved over your head. In a state of panic, you freeze up. Something swipes at your legs, effectively knocking you to the ground. Your head bounces off the cement. You feel one of your legs get lifted up and get dragged away.

A screech comes from a nearby door opening. Since when was there a door here? The world around you gets fuzzy, voices buzz around as you bounce in and out of consciousness. You can just barely make out the quiet conversation around you.

“Ah shucks, the boss is gonna be squinny when he sees us!” One voice says.

“Maybe we’ll get paid this time.” Another voice says.

You hear what sounds like a high five before fading into unconsciousness.

When you wake back up, the first thing you notice is that you are NOT on the ground. You begin to thrash around like a fish out of water. (M/N: more like a person in air) (L/N: unepic joke) You feel the coarse rope grind against your skin. You trace your hands up and around your surroundings. There’s openings. Many openings. Some large enough to fit your arm through. Without a second thought, you stick your hands through the holes. There’s nothing within arm’s reach in front of you, behind you, below and above you.

“Am I actually suspended in a net right now? What am I, an animal?” You grumble.

“Oi, the rats’ll hear ya! They’ve got ears everywhere.” A low, grizzled voice warns.

“Yeah! And you don’t wanna piss off our boss!” A spunkier, younger voice adds.

Were there people here the entire time? You hastily fumble the bag off your head and spot the two kidnappers playing poker at a small folding table. An older man with a black cowboy hat sits near the corner, a cigar hanging from his lips. His thick beard absorbs most of the smoke he lets out. On top of the classic bounty hunting suit is a poncho—a glimmering silver and black zigzag pattern. In the middle, poorly hand embroidered, is ‘Stev-n’s Cool Guys.’ One of the threads seemed to have fallen out. (L/N: omg he’s so fine). A younger man sits in front of him, curly red hair peeking out under his beige cowboy hat. He has a poncho of his own: a nice, unassuming highlighter yellow with a purple star pattern. You can see the cards he has. It’s a terrible hand.

“Ah shit, we shoulda tied their arms and legs together.”

“Aw hell, what’s the boss gon’ say when he hears about this? We’ll be fit to be tied!”

The both of them make eye contact with each other, then look back at you before returning to their poker game.

“Eh, it ain’t like they can escape anyways. The hoosegow is nice n’ secure.” the older man says, tipping his cowboy hat down a little lower. It makes you angry how cool he looks while saying that.

5 hours later, you're still suspended in the air no matter what you tried to do. The hoosegow WAS nice n’ secure. You lay there in defeat, until a soft snoring noise came from below you. You turn your head and see both of your captors have fallen asleep.

“At least they're comfortable,” you murmur to yourself. Being suspended in a net for this long really wasn’t helping your back, and your neck was really starting to ache. You sigh and look at the ceiling, deciding to try to make the best of it and take a nap as well. After all, it's been a while since you rested. It's impossible to tell the time in the sewers. Day and night are completely indistinguishable from each other, as the only source of light was still the nauseatingly stained light bulbs drilled into the walls. Unfortunately for you, the cowboys who kidnapped you were considerate enough to hang your net directly in front of those awful LED lights. The light shined through your eyelids no matter how tightly you squeezed them shut. Groaning, you pull the bag back over your head, desperately trying to get some semblance of rest. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, there’s a noticeable weight change. You feel yourself lower ever so slightly.

“Hey,” a quiet voice whispers near you. You sit up (to the best of your abilities) and try locating where the voice came from.

“I am here,” the voice said again.

You recognize that voice. You toss the bag off your head and look around, your eyes quickly landing right next to you. It was a thin looking figure clinging onto the side of the net, waving at you. You look closer and notice his clothing, old strips of fabric tightly wound around his elegant limbs, the ribbon tying his hair back into a high ponytail sticking out of a… paper bag? The lost mask, the voice, the clothing…

“RAT BITS MAN?!” You scream in shock, delight, fear, and love.

“SHHH,” He clasps his hand over your mouth, “They will hear–”

You hear a whooshing sound right before a rope lassos around Rat bits man’s torso, violently yanking him back and pulling him off the edge of the net. He lands directly onto the table, collapsing it. The poker cards go flying.

“That’s what I call a straight flush,” grinned the older man arrogantly.

Chapter Text

Rat bits man immediately started fighting back against the cowboy kidnappers, thrashing around, and getting a few solid kicks in.

“DAGNABBIT, GET THIS BAD HOSS UNDER CONTROL!!!” The younger cowboy shouts over the chaos.

“A’M TRYIN’ TER’ BUT IT AINT’ CO-OPERATIN’.” The older cowboy yells back. After a lot of struggle, the two men manage to pin rat bits man down and wrap the rest of his body in the lasso. You look down in horror as they roughly sat him up and began pulling him away. The old cowboy chuckled as he looked down at the helpless rat man.

“Men and beasts are different breeds, but two sides of the same coin. But you, my boy, are the edge. Not quite man, not quite beast. A whole different breed. Quite the eye the boss has for treasures like you.” That was quite enough of that.

“What the FUCK dude. That's so gross, you… you prehistoric fossil!! You septuagenarian!!” You say sharply. You can’t let that man’s cool lines get to you. There’s more pressing matters to attend to. “Let him go!”

“‘Pologies, sweet corn, but no can do,” he says, looking up at you, “This lil’ vermin’s got a date he’s been neglectin’ to attend.”

A date? As far as you were aware, you were the closest thing to a friend he’s ever had. There’s no way he got himself a date!

“Yeah, right! Rat man, tell me he’s lying,” it sounded more like a plea than anything.

Rat bits man just looks away.

You falter, “Come on man, it’s a lie, right? They literally have you lassoed.”

Rat bits man shrinks into himself.

“Alrighty! It’s time to get a wiggle on, pardner,” the younger man cheers. “The boss’ rats deserve a treat. DINNER TIME BOYS!! ”

The two cowboy captors drag rat bits man away, leaving you alone for the rats to feed on.

Death by rat is a pretty bad way to go out, and there’s no way you’ll be on Buzzfeed Unsolved with such a lousy death. Moreover, what was rat man’s deal? What about all the moments you had together? Did they mean nothing? It's not like you and him were ever officially a couple, it's silly to believe he would never find that special someone in the sewers. You shake your head. It's fine, if he has fallen in love with someone else, heartbreak is a burden that you’ll have to shoulder yourself, especially if rat bits man doesn't reciprocate your feelings.

Wait. Hold on. You're being stupid. Wasn’t he literally thrashing around while being dragged away? And he looked more embarrassed than anything when the date was mentioned. You know the man can’t speak in full sentences, what made you think he could possibly articulate his actual feelings?

The skittering of rats snapped you out of your thoughts. Right. The whole getting eaten alive thing. You feverishly go through all your options. Maybe you could chew through? No, you barely have the money for tuition, let alone dental insurance. How about rip the net open with your bulging muscles? No, you’re just lying to yourself. You’re a theatre major for crying out loud. You pat yourself down, desperately trying to find anything that could help you out. As waves of rats fill the room, you feel something in your pocket and pull it out.

“I HAD A KNIFE THIS WHOLE TIME? Wow, those cowboys did a really bad job at taking all my stuff,” you look over to where they were standing guard, “and they left my bag. Swag. That rhymed.”

You flick open your switchblade and saw through the thick rope, enough for you to wriggle through and dive for your bag. Backpack in hand and knife shoved back into your pocket, you run as fast as your legs can take you as the skittering of rats follow behind.

Time to go save your rat bits man.

Chapter Text

You race down the halls, desperate to get away from the rat hoard as soon as possible. Are they under the control of that Samuel guy? They were called the “boss’ rats”. If this “boss” guy was controlling these rats, he was probably the one behind all of the rat floods above ground as well. This guy is dangerous. You need to be careful.

The corridor was endlessly long and pathless. Why were the sewers even designed this way? Suddenly, the overpowering scent of AXE Musk Deodorant Body Spray wafts through. The castle! You immediately make a right turn and the scent gets stronger. You were on the right path. You squint into the distance. Against the flying rats and sickly green light was a soft sky blue light. There’s your chance! You run a little faster, breathe a little harder, and make a sharp turn to your left.

Before you stands a large oak door. Clean would not be the word you’d use to describe it, but compared to everything else in this dank ass nasty ass grimey sewer, it’s clean. Strips of blue light seep through the cracks. You ram your shoulder into the door.

“LET ME IN,” you plea, “LET ME INNNNNNN.”

You’re about to ram into the door again when it swings open. You topple over, landing on some bedazzled crocs. The charms spell out “ME X RAT”. Your eyes trail up. The man wore a bright green Polo Ralph Lauren shirt and orange pinstripe slacks. The scent of AXE Musk Deodorant Body Spray emanated from him so strongly you nearly passed out. He has an unnaturally wide smile and platinum blond hair slicked back. He was, for lack of a better term, very preppy.

“Oh, it’s you! The willing participant in my little scheme. Very glad to finally meet you in person,” He bends down and shoots his hand out.

You stare daggers into him. He reminds you a lot of the main actor for the upcoming Heathers: the Musical production. You reluctantly take his hand and he pulls you up. Right on cue, the rats come scurrying into the opening. You open your mouth to scream when he pulls you behind him and screeches something in some other language. (L/N: rat language???) The rats immediately halt and casually skitter back to wherever they came from.

“God, the rats get so ansty when they’re hungry. I just fed them a few days ago,” he grumbles, adjusting his crown made entirely of solid gold. A nameplate is attached on the front.

“You’re Stevan?” you gawk.

He puffs up his chest, “The one and only! Glad to know I’m just so loved around here.” His smile twitches. “Please, come into my humble abode.”

Humble was not the correct word to describe it. Quite the opposite, really. This was, by far, the largest room you’ve ever seen within the sewers. Pure marble and dark oak spanned 15 feet upwards into the ceiling, meeting at a glamorous chandelier made of broken glass in the centre. Stevan leads you through the beautiful halls of his castle. You couldn't help but be in awe of the furnishing. Fur carpets, velvet couches, a fountain of a giant rat. You hate to admit it, but Stevan had good taste in interior design. The sea of rats parted wherever Stevan stepped, it was almost majestic the way he carried himself. Powerful. Strong. Just like a Rat king should be.

Never did he falter a single time. His voice was commanding—demanded respect—but it was off, somehow. A slight tinge of anger, or perhaps sadness, was present in his voice.

Stevan eventually brings you to where the main event was being held: date night.

“So,” he draws out, “it would be highly inappropriate to just kick you out. Why not bear witness to the greatest love story ever to be recorded in history!” His smile twitches again.

Before you’re given the chance to protest, the surrounding rats push open another large oak door to reveal a splendid restaurant area. It was like you walked into a night scene in Paris. In the sea of tables occupied by rats dressed up all fancy was rat bits man, tied to a chair. As you saunter forward, you notice his usual cloak was replaced by a dark suit 3 sizes too big.

“Hello my dearest Scotty, look what I found: our new waiter! Now our date will be absolutely perfect.” Stevan forces out a grin.

“Wait, Scotty?” you ask, “who’s Scotty?” Your question goes unanswered.

“Stevan. I don't like you,” Rat bits man spoke through gritted teeth, “You try to kill me. You try to kill friend. You are not good.” Rat bits man shifts in his chair to glare at Stevan.

“Oh, water under the bridge! I was just trying to... escort you to this amazing date of ours! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!” Stevan tried again, eye twitching again at the word
“date.” You begin to feel a little peeved after being ignored the first time

“Mind telling me what’s going on? Who is Scotty? What is he talking about?” You spit, looking to either of the two for a response. Stevan loudly clapped his hands together and grinned before responding.

“Oh, how could I be so forgetful! I need to introduce… us… to our dear guest! Me and Scotty here have a… complicated relationship, so to speak. We go way back, early childhood. Oh, Scotty used to be made fun of back at home for his 6 eyes! I always thought he looked super cool!” Stevan wraps an arm around rat bits man. He grumbles, trying his hardest to escape the chair and as far away from Stevan as possible.

“They say that eyes are the window to the soul, so I thought to myself, what an honest boy! He has 6 windows! And then we started to get to know each other and I just felt such a… strong connection,” Stevan rambles on and on about him and rat bits man’s (who you now know is apparently named Scotty) misadventures together. Their childhood, everything and anything.

“My, I even remember when we... you know… K-I-S-S-I-E-D!” You look toward rat bits man in disbelief to which he violently shook his head. The grip Stevan has on him tightened.

“Oh I remember when Scotty ran down into the sewers, I was just so scared for him. Why would a defenseless boy go to such a dangerous place? I followed, not knowing it would be the last time I ever stepped foot onto the surface.”

There was a slight pause before Stevan picked up his story again. “I was scared, alone and afraid. Scotty was nowhere to be found and, well, I was convinced I was going to die.” Stevan then spread his arms wide and gestured to the thousands of rats around him. “BUT I WAS SAVED!! The rats accepted me, took me in like I was their brother, and soon made me king.” He then bows, and all the rats squeaked in response as if to applaud him for his speech. You genuinely had no response. How were you supposed to respond to something like that? You decided to just not address it.

“Uh-huh, okay sure anyways, now that I'm here, what’s gonna happen?” You ask.

Stevan smiles, “Well, weren’t you paying attention? You’re our new waiter! You can bring me and Scotty the fantastic dishes our world class rat chef Remy cooked!”

“Like from Ratatouille?”

“No, like from Brooklyn. He’s very proud of his heritage.”

You stare down at rat bits man, watching him shift uncomfortably. You bite the inside of your cheek. This, right now, was your time to shine. The ultimate show. The greatest theatrical performance ever to go down in the history books. You will be the next Lin-Manuel Miranda.

“Why, of course he should be! Anywho, I would absolutely be honoured to be your server tonight! I think you two make a great couple!” You beam. Out of your periphery, you see rat bits man look at you with betrayal through the paper bag.

“You... do? I mean, of course you do!”

“I fully support your relationship. I know it can be hard to live alone,” You look down at your grimy shoes and smile a bit to yourself , “And I can’t live down here forever. I’m not accustomed to the sewer lifestyle. I want someone to keep rat bits man company when I’m gone, and who else would that be but you? You really do love him.”

Stevan looks at you with a stoic face, just for a split second, before returning to his usual cheery mood. “Goodness, you’re going to make me cry. Now, what do you say, my beloved?”

Rat bits man bangs his head against the table.

Chapter Text

The date is going as smoothly as riding a modified bicycle down an 80 degree hill: bound to end in disaster and most definitely illegal. On the flip side, you got this sweet server uniform. It’s got a bowtie and everything! But on the other other flip side, as the server you had to watch the most insufferable, most awkward attempt at banter you’ve ever seen go down.

“So, Scotty, how’s your time down here?”

“Bad.”

“Oh, don’t be so sour! That’s reserved for the freshly squeezed lemonade!”

No one laughs.

“Enjoying the scenery? I modelled it after Paris. The rats told me to. They’re just such big francophiles. Do you like France?”

“I do not know what that is.”

“You’re so funny! We should go to Paris for our honeymoon.”

Rat bits man longingly stares at the knife in front of him, next to his untouched meal.

“Thoughts on kids?”

“Stop.”

You bring in yet another meal, cutting the awkward tension. It’s a half open can of tuna and a single baby carrot on each plate. You scurry away, really not wanting to witness the rest of their conversation. From across the room you keep an eye on the pair, glad you aren't able to hear what they’re saying anymore. You see Stevan lean a little closer and give a wink before rat bits man begins slamming his head on the table over and over again. Stevan loses his composure and begins panicking, trying to push rat bits man up in an attempt to stop him from hitting his head, but quickly gives up and instead makes a beckoning gesture towards you.

“Now, uhhh umm uh oh, SERVER! Bring up the piece de resistance!” He snaps his fingers and a gang of rats hand you 2 small dark velvet boxes. You immediately recognized them as engagement ring boxes. Your eye twitches. As you walk towards the table, you avert your gaze as rat bits man desperately tries to meet your eyes. You gently place the ring boxes on the table and take a step back. Stevan grabs rat bits man’s hand and opens the box revealing a beautiful crystal ring.

“Scott, my beloved. We’ve known each other for an odd decade or so, but my love has never faded. The day I watched you run into the sewers was the day I knew. Will you marry me?” Stevan looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Rat man tries to shake his head no but the rats pile on top of him, restricting his movement. You see the rats begin to crowd onto his head, causing his head to dip slightly. The rats were forcing him to nod.

“It’s for the best,'' you say to him, “You deserve to be happy. Both of you.”

Stevan beams at you, and slides the ring onto rat bits man's finger.

“Wedding time!” Stevan claps his hands and you marvel at the speed at which the rats began deconstructing the restaurant into a wedding hall. This was make or break, and your plan had to work perfectly for things to end slightly well.

“Keep your head up,” you tell yourself, “ you're almost at the curtain call.”

Chapter Text

In a blink of an eye, all the tables and fairy lights were taken away, and white curtains and plush seats took their places. A decrepit piano was wheeled in, and 3 rats began to play ‘Here Comes the Bride’ with adequate skills.

With the final touches done, all the hundreds of rats took their seats. You graciously take a seat in the back, furthest away from the podium. You and the rats wait impatiently as the song plays over and over again with no signs of stopping. Where were they? You take it upon yourself to look for the grooms.

You sneakily dash out your seat and into a side door. You peer down the marble hallway. One of the doors had a sign that read “STEVAN” in messy handwriting. You knock on the door and a nervous

“Come in!” replies from the other side. You open the door and see Stevan in a clean white tuxedo with frills lining the edges. He was pacing around and chewing his thumb, muttering to himself.

“Hey, I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was alright,” you say, sounding a little unsure. Stevan looks up at you, hope filling his eyes, and grabs you by the shoulders

“OH THANK GOODNESS YOU'RE HERE!” He cleared his throat and released his grip “Well, you see, there’s been a bit of a… situation. The only rat that was actually licensed to officiate our wedding kind of—how do I put this?—died. He was old, and had a heart attack. Rest in peace Steve, he will be sorely missed.” Stevan held his hands together in a moment of remembrance. You awkwardly join not wanting to disrespect the death of such an important rat.

“Anyways, I would ask Marvin, the bounty hunter I hired to… invite rat bits man, to officiate but he actually quit last night, saying something about “returning back to his dreams of completing his child psychology college course” or something. So, I was thinking…”

Wait.

“That you…”

Holy shit.

“Can become our officiator!”

You can’t believe this panned out so perfectly. You can barely contain your joy, flinging your arms around Stevan. “I would be positively honoured to!”

Stevan lets out a sigh, “I knew you’d say yes…”

“So, do I get a cool suit?”

“Well…”

You stand at the altar, completely decked out in a new beige cowboy hat and yellow poncho. You clutch the book you were given, which was rat sized and had nothing but drawings of cheese. You actually were not licensed to officiate a wedding but you felt like it was a little late to say anything. Besides, this is your chance to free rat bits man from the tethers of this majestic weirdo.

‘Here Comes the Bride’ plays dramatically as Stevan steps out of the dressing room, holding a small, elderly rat in his hand. As Stevan approached the altar, the old rat hopped out of his hand and scurried into its seat near the front of the venue. The music continues to play as a loud thumping sound emits from the dressing room, followed by a quiet squeaking noise. 20 rats pulled rat bits man out of the room, tied to a wheelie chair. The paper bag was off, exposing his beautiful face. His hair was haphazardly slick back and we wore the same oversized suit. He was truly a sight for sore eyes. The rats dragged him over a ramp that was built into the altar before taking their seats. The music stops and you take that as your cue to begin the ceremony.

“Esteemed rats!! I have the pleasure of officiating the wedding of “Scotty” rat bits man and Stevan. Their love knows no bounds, their love is timeless. To live is to love, to love is to laugh, and I believe these two have truly found it. They have truly found each other, and they have truly found themselves.” It was total bullshit. You have no idea what you're saying but as the famous Hugh Jackman said himself, “The show must go on.”

“Time for the vows!” You exclaim, clasping the book shut and taking a step back. Better start preparing yourself.

Stevan takes out a sheet of paper and clears his throat. “When my 2 eyes met 6, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt so confused, so enraptured, so in… love,” his voice lacked the confidence that was once present. “Every day I spent with you was such a treat. I have loved you since the very first day we met.”

“You were truly my first ever friend. Someone who liked me for me. Not for my money, my stinking good looks, or my hypnotically beautiful voice. Just for plain ol’ me. And I really valued that. That’s why I followed you into the sewers. The only real friend I had was going to leave and I just couldn’t stand it, Scotty.” His voice was much clearer. Not as muddled with forced emotions or flowery language. It was genuine.

“But now we’re here, reunited against all odds! I can’t believe the day is finally here. To be your husband will be the greatest joy in my life. My dear Scotty, I don’t have a shadow of a doubt that you love me just the same.” Steven reverts back to that phony cheery attitude.

You don’t totally get what’s happening, but by the looks of it, rat bits man does. His eyes were completely wide, not from shock, but from understanding. A distinct loneliness he related to. This wasn’t the love Stevan wanted.

You clear your throat, aware that you’ve just been staring into space, “And rat bits man, your vows.” He looks at you, expecting some sort of pointer or clue on what to say. You give him a smile. He takes it as a sign.

“I am sorry,” rat bits man begins, “I think I tricked you. You are not no good. You are sad. You are alone. You are hurting.”

The rats gasp. Stevan looks down.

“Not good with love, me or you. But you do not need love. You be happy without love with me. I am happy with friends. I am happy for friends. Like this, me and you are the same.”
Stevan doesn’t look as devastated as you expected, more reserved than anything.

You step forward, breaking the silence and trying to continue the ceremony. “Wow, what, uh, moving vows! Now, for the, uh, finale. Do you, Stevan, take rat bits man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” You say tensely.

“I… suppose I do.” Stevan hesitates. His eyes betray his words, and his grin wanes more obviously than before.

“And do you, rat bits man…”

Rat bits man lifts his head. For the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t look upset. Rather, he looks content in his words.

“Take Stevan to be your lawfully…”

You smile at rat bits man and with confidence you never even knew you had, you draw your fist back and punch Stevan directly in the face. “DREADED HUSBAND!”

That was not necessary but it’s too late now.

Chapter Text

You whip the holographic knife out of your pocket and slice the rope off of rat bits man who immediately stood up and took a big stretch. He cracks his knuckles and grins at you. You nearly faint from his smile. Oh, how you’ve missed him. Both you and him get into position to run, but to your surprise, not a single rat makes a move.

“What is happening?” you whisper to rat bits man

Rat bits man tenses up a bit and points to Stevan. “Look.”

The rats cautiously surround their king. Stevan slowly sits up and holds his head in his hands. Soft shudders emanate from him and he begins to quietly sob.

“Goodness, what am I doing?” Stevan hopelessly wipes the tears falling from his face, trying his best to compose himself.

“I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry,” He chokes on a sob, no longer holding back as large tear droplets run down his face. “This isn't right. I'm so sorry, Scotty. After all this time… and then the things you said… I never should’ve tried to make you love me. I never should’ve tried to make myself love you. I’m such an idiot.”

This is definitely not what you thought was going to happen. Rat bits man gingerly approaches Stevan and kneels down, placing a hand on the crying man’s knee. Double definitely not what you thought was going to happen. Rat bits man removes the ring from his finger and places it back onto Stevan’s hand.

“Stevan, I know you are not unkind. Please understand. You have been hurtful. You have been hurting, But…” Rat bits man cups Stevan’s cheek and gives a warm smile. “You are still my friend.”

Stevan moved towards rat bits man and held him in a tight embrace that rat bits man accepted. They sat there for a moment, the two hugging each other as tightly as they could, never wanting each other to feel alone again, but it was a different kind of love. A type of love that endured years of pain, loneliness and misery. You look on with a strange feeling in your chest. You had never felt anything quite like it. Not anything overwhelming, just a pure feeling of…happiness? You aren't sure really. The two eventually separated and rat bits man stood up as Stevan took a deep breath, face blotchy from crying.

“You two should be on your way now,” he says, giving the both of you a small wave. Rat bits man pats his shoulder and waves goodbye. Both of you exit the castle with ease, with the rats forming a path to the entrance. Though, you’re convinced some of them were giving you the stink eye. You both silently walk through the sewers before the rat bit man speaks.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Of course I want to, but I just… that loneliness Stevan and you felt, I kinda get it,” you look up towards the ceiling, absentmindedly watching the Zero-Sugar Ultra Red Monster Energy scented sludge drip down around you. “There isn’t anyone waiting for me up there. It's just more being screamed at, more deadbeat jobs, more disappointment.”

You look towards rat bits man, self-indulgently admiring his beauty, “I… Rat bits man, sometimes I feel as though I should stay here with you. I have a sense of belonging down here. I feel happiest when I’m away from the surface.”

“Do you? Or do you not like what is bad above?” Well, that caught you off guard.

“What?”

Rat bits man tilted his head and stopped walking to look at you. “I ran down here to live happy. No more stones, names, shouting. But… I miss the above sometimes. Warm food, warm sleep, clean water. I miss people. Talking, friends. I have you and Stevan, but not the same. I miss the sun. I miss stars. There is very good down here, yes yes, but there is very very bad. There is very bad up there but there is also very very good.”

He was right. Living in the sewers was just wishful thinking. You loved the misadventures you’ve had down here. The strange people you’ve met, the excitement you felt, the first time in a while you felt any sort of joy. But, it was all escapism. You begin to remember the taste of warm coffee on chilly mornings, and tea on sleepless nights. The sun beaming through your window, effectively blinding your roommate’s chances of winning at Mario Kart. The radio blasting 90’s rock overhead while you ice skated, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. All these things you would never be able to experience underground.

“Well, do you want to go home?”

Rat bits man pauses, “This is my home.”

“No, I mean,” you point up, “home.”

“I… do not have home in the above no more.”

“Then, why don't you live with me?”

Rat bits man scratches his chin, considering your proposition.

“If you say I should go up and face everything I want to leave behind,” Rat bits man tilts his head the other way and closes his eyes, “You should too. Let’s not do it alone.” He opens all his eyes and nods.

“Well spoken! It’s only fair we both face what we left.” You grin at him and go to take his hand, but he grabs onto you first. He begins running, guiding you swiftly through the tunnels. The darkness suddenly doesn't feel so scary anymore. The many narrow winding roads where the fear of rats, bugs, and bats were waiting to jump out at you dissipated. It was just you and rat bits man running. Just you and Scott. You felt free.

He abruptly stops at an opening above, two thin strips of faded light beaming through the manhole cover. It’s the same opening he brought you to when you first had to leave him behind. This time around, he was coming with you. He climbs up first and reaches his arm down to hoist you up into the opening alongside him. The journey back up seemed so short in the company of someone you truly love that even the most laborious of tasks can seem fun. Near the top of the ladder, Rat bits man worriedly looks down at you, placing a single hand against the grate, ready to push it up. You give him a supportive nod before he looks back up, and pushes the manhole cover off, flooding your vision with warm sunlight.

You were not alone. Neither was he.

Chapter Text

Word of a mysterious new transfer student from Canada spread like wildfire through the school. It was also rumoured that he couldn’t read, but quickly overshadowed by the fact that he was insanely attractive for a man who lived in the sewers for a decade. Scott/Rat bits man felt overwhelming nervousness, being surrounded by so many curious people so suddenly. Either way, he tried his best to stay calm and catch up on everything he’s missed. With you by his side, that fear slowly washed away.

Your roommate, Brandonley, absolutely adored rat bits man the moment he walked through the door. At every waking moment, Brandonley insisted that Scotty reveal his workout routine, or invite him out to the gym.

“But, bro, your triceps are so killer!” Brandonley, without much thought, would often poke at rat bits man’s physique while complimenting him. “You really don’t skip leg day, huh?” He laughed, smacking him in the back harder than being run over by a ball of rats. He lets out a flustered squeak, face going completely red.

“Whoa!” Brandonley suddenly grabs one of rat bits man’s hands, “Your hands are so strong, bro! I’ve never seen someone with hand muscles like this. That’s, like, mad cool.”

This is all so new to rat bits man. Especially the compliments.

“Um, thank you,” he said, trying his best to enunciate the words correctly.

“Man, we should hang out sometime,” he grinned, goofy and lopsided.

When Brandonley said ‘hang out’, he meant insisting on a bench pressing contest, to which you quickly escorted your very overwhelmed friend out of the gym.

Rat bits man was greatly appreciated as a new member of the stage crew. His ability to nimbly travel across narrow spaces made him a huge asset during shows. He even landed the role as tree #4 alongside you in your broadway debut of Wizard of Oz (which went perfectly). News about rat floods stopped as well. Seemed like Stevan figured some things out.

Life went on. It wasn’t smooth, you fully expected that, but it wasn’t as bumpy anymore. Sure, your job still sucked and your talent still goes unrecognized, but everything looked a little brighter. More vibrant. Happier.

On a day where the sun was shining brighter than it's ever been, a large rat with keys, a gold leaf envelope, and a strange looking mask taped to its back scurried through the Ohio university dorm rooms. It had a mission to drop off some very important items to some very important people, and nothing stood in its path.